


Consequences

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Friendship, Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 04:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17257244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: “Oh, c'mon, everybody's talking about it.” Il Peccio punches him lighly on the shoulder. “Even in Spanish class, and they're usually the last to know. Covitti was talking shit about you and Fares as usual and ended up with a split lip. Tomorrow he'll likely have a black eye too. Epic stuff!”





	Consequences

Marti hears it on Friday from il Peccio, of all people.

He's been recording with Sana all afternoon. Nico went out with his mum, so Marti is about to text the boys to see if they can meet somewhere, when he bumps into il Peccio, who is coming out of his elective Spanish class.

“Hey Marti!”

“Hey!”

“I saw that asshole Covitti earlier today.” Il Peccio smirks. “Good job, man.”

Marti furrows his brow.

“Good job?” he repeats, dumbfounded. “What job?”

“Oh, c'mon, everybody's talking about it.” Il Peccio punches him lighly on the shoulder. “Even in Spanish class, and they're usually the last to know. Covitti was talking shit about you and Fares as usual and ended up with a split lip. Tomorrow he'll likely have a black eye too. Epic stuff!”

Marti's phone slips from his fingers and crashes loudly to the floor in the mostly empty corridor.

He kneels to retrieve it, the echo of the noise still in his ears, and he notices his hands are shaking. He's not sure he knows what's making them do that.

“Wh-when did this happen?” Marti asks. It comes out strangled and weak. “Who did this?”

“You mean you weren't there?! But I was told-” Il Peccio stops and thinks back. “Nono, they told me it was you guys. Right after school, at the gates. Rametta and his friends from the fourth year, they said. Or maybe just Rametta's friends, I don't remember well. Still, I thought you knew! They did it _for_ you.”

“Did they?” Marti asks sharply, and his hands are still shaking uncontrollably, but now he recognizes the feeling. He's _angry_. “How nice of them,” he says, the words drenched in sarcasm. The worst kind, the one he has not been needing in a while. “How very thoughtful.”

Il Peccio looks at him like he's not getting it, and that just makes Marti angrier.

“But you have to understand. He was saying awful things, Marti. You have no idea-”

“I think I do, actually. I've heard it before, you know. Once, or twice, or a million times,” Marti cuts him off. He's trying not to shout but he's fuming, and this is getting harder by the second. “Sorry, I have to go now.”

“Oh, sure, man. Sure. See you on-”

Marti doesn't let him finish.

He stalks off towards the stairs. His phonecase is chipped but the glass is intact, despite the fall, and Marti couldn't care less right now.

He unlocks the phone and starts typing furiously.

*

**Contrabbandieri di Luchini, Friday, h. 16.47**

_Martino: where the fuck are you?_

_Giovanni: the calcetto benches. marti, we can explain_

_Martino: fuck you. i'm coming now_

*

He goes for Gio.

He goes for Gio because Elia doesn't think until it's too late and Luchino just follows their lead. But Gio should know better, Gio always knows better.

_Why didn't he? How dare he not get it the one time it matters?_

Gio sees him coming and doesn't move.

Elia and Luca make to stand from the bench they're sitting on, but Gio stops them with a gesture. He looks at Marti walk furiously towards him and he doesn't move from where he stands, in front of the bench, shielding the boys and facing Marti.

If he thinks that's going to make Marti stop, then he's very much mistaken because at this point he couldn't even if he wanted to.

And he doesn't want to.

He collides with Gio and shoves him backwards, but he was expecting it, so that barely registers with him. 

He doesn't push back. 

Gio never pushes back, like he thinks Marti might break. Like Marti's fragile and he needs protecting, like he's not almost eighteen too. Like he's not taller than any of them.

That's so infuriating Marti shoves him again, with more force this time, but Gio takes his wrists in his hands and keeps him still.

“Marti, listen,” he starts, calm and level-headed, like he's got the moral high ground here. Like he didn't punch a guy in his mouth mere hours ago.

Marti is so done with all of this.

“No, you fucking listen!” He wrestles free from Gio's hold and starts to shout. “You fucking listen 'cause you never fucking do. What did I tell you about Covitti? What did I tell you, all of you?” He looks to Elia and Luca, who are now standing to Gio's left, looking way more defiant that they have any right to. “Let. It. Go. Didn't I tell you that? _Didn't I?_ Then why didn't you fucking listen! A split lip and a black eye! God!”

“He was talking shit about you! Calling you a fucking fag. How were we supposed to let that go?” Elia moves to stand in front of Marti, gesticulating wildly to make his point. “He was shitting on Nico too! You don't even want to know-”

“Don't!” Marti interrupts, like he might explode if he hears any more of this. “Don't even try to bring Nico into this.”

“Marti. Covitti brought Nico into this, not us!” Luca says somewhat anxiously. “We just... fought back. What were we supposed to do?”

“LET! IT! GO! Like I do every day! Do you think _I_ like to listen to the shit that asshole says about me all the time?” People are starting to stare and whisper around them. Some have come out on their windows and balconies to see what the fuss is all about, but Marti doesn't have it in him to care right now. “And do you want to talk about Nico? Let's talk about Nico. You know who fucking has to see Covitti's ugly face all day every day because they're in the same fucking class? Take a wild guess! And now you've beaten the shit out of the guy, imagine how fun it will be to see him everyday! I wonder what they'll talk about! Rainbows and butterflies for sure!”

“Covitti won't try anything with Nico, Marti,” Gio says, and it's the calm tone Marti hates again. “He knows he can't.”

“Oh, well, if you say so, then that's it, isn't it?” Marti spits out. “I don't have to worry about Covitti and his fucking friends beating me up at the bus stop or following Nico home and beat _him_ up! Because you three think you're the Avengers or something and you fixed this for me. I'm so grateful!”

Gio takes his hands again and tries to make Marti look at him.

“Marti, I swear, we only wanted to help-”

“Well, congratulations, you made it worse!” Marti shouts. His voice breaks, and he knows he has to leave now or he'll start crying right here in front of everyone. “And let go of me! I don't need your help, I can manage on my own.”

He tugs to break free and he can feel Gio release the hold he had on his wrists. Somehow, that makes him feel even worse.

Marti muffles a sob in his jacket and starts running.

*

How he manages to get there is a blur, but Marti is not surprised to find himself in front of Nico's apartment building.

It's Anna who buzzes him in and opens the door with a smile. Their relationship has improved considerably in the last few months and Marti hates to spring this on her, but he really needs Nico right now.

“Martino! What a pleasant surprise! We're just back from-” She notices his red eyes and the poor state of his face. It's probably very obvious that he cried all the way here. “What happened?”

Marti opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head and he can feel the tears well up again.

“Come in, come in, dear.” She guides him in with a firm hand on his shoulder. “I'll get Nico for you.”

But Nico is already there. 

Standing just outside his bedroom door, looking slightly worried, his hair a bit of a mess as it always is when he gets home and changes. Looking so real and solid Marti feels instant relief at the sight of him.

“Marti,” Nico says, just that.

And Marti runs and almost crashes into him.

Nico smells like he always does, like the million products he puts in his hair, and it's so familiar and right, that Marti feels like he can't let go. Nico seems to get it, as he guides him inside his bedroom walking backwards, arms around Marti's sobbing frame, and closes the door behind them.

It takes another hour before Marti manages to speak.

Nico lies next to him on the bed, holds him tight, and lets him cry. He covers him with his blankets and, when Marti feels well enough to sit, he makes him drink Anna's fancy namebrand black tea.

Marti speaks then, and Nico listens.

Marti is not angry anymore. But he _is_ sad, and afraid, and disappointed in the boys. Only, he doesn't think he could take it if Nico were too.

Maybe he is. He probably is. Maybe he's even as scared as Marti feels right now.

But he says nothing and listens and helps Marti say what he needs to say with the practised patience of someone who's been there one time too many not to know that letting it all out, the ugly parts especially, those you hate yourself for thinking, nevermind saying, is the only possible choice here.

“What do you want to do?” Nico says afterwards.

They're still on his bed. Marti is lying half on top of Nico, holding onto the collar of his shirt with something resembling desperation, he knows, but he won't let go until Nico tells him to. And Nico never does.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

“Sure.”

Marti can hear the gentle smile in Nico's voice. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply.

“I don't know what I want to do tomorrow.”

“That's alright.” Nico kisses the top of his head. “We have time.”

*

**Giovanni, Friday, h. 21.34**

_can we talk? please?_

*

**Contrabbandieri di Luchini, Saturday, h. 15.06**

_Giovanni: marti i know you're mad, you have every right to be, but can we please meet somewhere? we really need to talk_

_Luca: please marti, reply. we didn't mean to upset you_

_Luca: i know we did anyway, but i swear we didn't mean to_

_Luca: which doesn't help very much, i know, because you're upset anyway. but know that we never wanted to make you feel bad. we miss you. please reply_

*

**Elia, Saturday, h. 23.58**

_just so you know, saturday night sucks without you_

*

**Giovanni, Sunday, h. 02.43**

_i'm such an idiot_

*

**Contrabbandieri di Luchini, Sunday, h. 12.03**

_Martino: hey guys, nico here. 4.30 at my place sounds good to you? marti says hi_

_Giovanni: does he?_

_Martino: you know what i mean_

_Giovanni: that he knows this conversation is happening and is ok with it?_

_Martino: …_

_Giovanni: alright, i'm in_

_Luca: yeah, me too_

_Elia: ok_

_Martino: thank you guys, see you later – nico_

*

The boys arrive together at four twenty-five.

Nico opens the door for them, and leads them to his room.

There is no need, really, Nico's parents went out, but Nico thinks the living room is too formal for this, and Marti just goes with it.

He's sitting cross-legged on Nico's bed when they arrive.

He can feel Gio's eyes on him as soon as he comes through the door, but Marti doesn't acknowledge him, or the boys. He just keeps staring at Nico's blue duvet until they've sat down.

“You can sit there, Lu, it's fine,” he hears Nico tell Luchino, and Marti feels the bed dip slightly, as Luca sits at the far corner of the bed, on the side of the door.

Elia takes Nico's chair and sits backwards, arms crossed, elbows propped on the back, and Gio stands, leaning carefully against Nico's desk.

Nico sits down next to Marti and, as soon as the bed springs stop squeaking, all Marti can hear is silence.

Endless seconds of complete silence.

Luca coughs nervously, and Marti hears Elia's chair scrape gently against the floor. He doesn't look up, but he can _feel_ Gio and Elia exchange a look. He steals a glance at Nico, who is staring serenely at the library as if he finds it endlessly fascinating.

… Marti will strangle him one of these days.

They are all clearly expecting him to say something – this is his house after all, not exactly neutral ground. And he was the one who sent those texts.

(Yes, Marti agreed.

Well, he did everything in his power not to say out loud that he agreed, but he had been moping at Nico's place all Saturday, and when Nico said, on Sunday morning: “Do you want me to text them?”, he looked up so fast he almost got whiplash.

“Is that a yes?” Nico's tone was gently mocking, and Marti replied by pulling a face at him.

“Okay, I'm texting them then. Can I use your phone?”

Marti shrugged, and Nico rolled his eyes at him.

“Will you give me your phone so I can text your friends to come over?”

Marti waited a few seconds – for dignity, he told himself – before standing up abruptly from the bed.

He planted his phone in Nico's hand, pointedly didn't look him in the eyes, and stormed off to the living room.

Nico was kind enough to pretend he didn't see him hide a smile in his sleeve.)

Point is, Marti should have expected he would pull something like this, the clever asshole.

“Thanks for inviting us?” Luca tries after several seconds of awkwardness.

“Sure. No problem, man,” is Nico's only reply, and it's back to silence again.

Marti looks up then.

He tries not to, but he can see Gio move slightly with the corner of his eye, and they are so attuned to one another he just knows that Gio is fighting to hold back a smile at how ridiculous they are being, much like he is.

So he looks.

Gio is looking back at him, of course. Worrying his lower lip with his teeth so he won't start smiling out of turn. Marti rolls his eyes at him.

_Just speak and be done with it._

Gio needs nothing more.

“Yeah, thanks for having us, man,” Gio says to Nico, as if it's only natural to reply to something that's been said more than a minute before. “I... I think we should probably talk about what happened on Friday. I'll start, if that's alright with you guys?” No one says anything, so he shrugs and goes on. “I want to start by saying that what we did at the school gates is not something that we are proud of, or that we think-” 

Elia scoffs, and the attention of the room shifts to him. Marti's stomach drops and he's suddenly really uncomfortable again. 

_Here we go._

“We are _not_ proud of it,” Gio repeats, a warning note in his voice, but if Marti knows Elia, that won't be enough to shut him up. 

And Marti knows Elia all too well. The stubborness and the pride and the reckless head-on attitude. 

It's like looking in the mirror. 

“Speak for yourself,” Elia says to Gio flatly, matter-of-factly. He uncrosses his arms on the back on the chair and sighs. “Look, I _have_ thought about what you said on Friday,” he acknowledges Marti by tilting his chin towards him. “I have, I swear. And I... I think it's true that we didn't think it through. In terms of consequences, I mean. For us, but especially for you,” Elia gesticulates in the direction of Marti and Nico. “But I'll make it right. I'll make sure that asshole won't lay a finger on you. Ever. And if that means that I have to break off all of his fingers, then so be it. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but that doesn't mean fucking Covitti didn't fucking deserve to have his teeth bashed in for what he said. I stand by it, and I would do it again.” 

“Yeah, except I don't want you as my bodyguard, I want you as my fucking friend, Eli,” Marti replies and it's only Nico's gentle hand on his knee that prevents him from shouting again. “Why is this so hard for you to understand? I don't need a bodyguard. I don't need you to look out for me. I don't need you to punch people who look at me the wrong way so they can be even angrier the next time we meet.” 

“So what? Do I just take it? Everything that dickhead says,” Elia sounds outraged. “Just... _take it?_ Should I say please and thank you, too? Is that really what you want me to do?” 

“You're not the one who's taking it! I am! Nico is! Not _you,_ ” Marti shakes his head. “This was never your decision to make. You don't get to decide what consequences _I'm_ willing to face. You just don't!” His breath comes out ragged and his hands are shaking again. But his words sound stronger and clearer than he thought himself capable of: “You didn't even think about me when you did this, Eli. None of you did." 

It's out. At last. 

_They didn't do this for me, or for us. They did it for themselves, and they didn't even realise it._

_They just... don't get it. I think that's what hurts the most._

Marti said it on Friday evening, in the safe haven of Nico's bed, protected from the world by a pile of soft blankets and Nico's loving embrace. 

He's saying it again now, sitting on the very same bed, Nico's hand on his knee, unobtrusive, caring, supportive. And the boys got to hear it this time. They heard from him exactly how much they hurt him. 

From the way Gio is looking shamefully at the floor, from his silence, from the 2am text Marti pretended to be unaffected by when the notification woke him and Nico up in the middle of the night, Marti thinks Gio has already realised this. 

But he needed to say it anyway. 

Nico's hand shifts from his knee to grab Marti's hand. He entwines their fingers and squeezes gently, and the following silence doesn't sound as ominous as Marti expected it to. He's so thankful for the time and space Nico is giving them. 

“We need to fix this.” 

Luca speaks then, and that's a surprise. Though in truth it shouldn't be because Luca has always been their anchor, their “okay, but what are we doing _now?_ ” guy. 

And isn't that a great question. 

Marti sees Luca look up at Gio first and then turn to look at Elia. They both stare at him wordlessly. 

“It's our mess. _We_ have to fix this,” Luca insists. “Only... what the fuck do we do? I guess we could... try and talk to him? Covitti, I mean, but-” 

“Oh, yeah, that's gonna go down real well,” Elia says sarcastically. “'Hey, man. Sorry for punching you, hope you're not still mad about that black eye. But just in case you are, please don't take your anger out on our friends. Okay bye.' Brilliant, Luchì. Just brilliant.” 

Luca crosses his arms in front of his chest somewhat belligerently. 

“Well, do _you_ have a better idea?” 

“Not at the moment, no,” Elia admits begrudgingly. 

“Well, then, maybe you shouldn't diss mine if you can't even-” 

“Guys, guys. _Stop._ This isn't helping,” Gio sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I think it's inevitable that we talk to Covitti at some point. Oh, c'mon, don't look at me like that, Eli, we can do nothing else. It's not like we can punch the guy again in the hope he will be too much of a mess to try anything on... on any of us afterwards. Not that he doesn't deserve it, we agree on that.” 

“But what would we even tell him?” Elia throws his hands in the air. “Honestly, Gio, imagine if a group of guys punched you in the face because you were being an asshole and then they came up to you wanting to talk. Like, how do you think you would react?” 

“Well, I'd be surprised,” Gio begins, dubiously. “I think I would want to hear what they want from me, at least. I wouldn't punch them, like, straight away. I mean, I'd want to, sure, but what if they've got sensible things to say?” 

Elia raises an eyebrow. 

“Am I back to catechismo and no one told me? 'Turn the other cheek' and all that crap.” 

“Is this what catechismo is like?” Marti asks out of nowhere, and he can tell the boys are surprised to hear him speak. He allows himself a small smile and looks at Gio. “You always made it sound like Hell, but it looks like they got you in the end.” 

Gio smiles back, fondly and sadly at the same time, and Luchino giggles. Elia shakes his head, but his eyeroll is just as genuine. They're _trying_ , at least, and there is no easy way out. Marti doesn't want to make this harder than it needs to be. 

He notices Gio is still looking vaguely uneasy. It takes a few seconds for their eyes to meet, but Marti waits, and, when they do, he tilts his head slightly to the side – a silent question. 

_Hey, we're working on it. What's up with you?_

Gio sighs, but he says nothing. Marti raises an eyebrow. 

_Oh, c'mon, don't make me come over there._

Gio huffs a laugh and shakes his head. 

“Keeping with the catechismo theme,” he says finally, looking at Marti. “I think there is one more thing that we should do. Besides working out a plan for the Covitti situation, I mean.” 

“What?” Luca furrows his brow. “Hope you don't want us to recite the Credo, or something, 'cause I deleted it ages ago.” 

They giggle, and Gio shakes his head. 

“No, I'm not that big of a fan, honestly. But I do think we should say sorry to Marti and Nico, because we haven't yet, and, like... I know it changes nothing, but,” he gulps and Marti feels the sudden urge to hug him. “Well, I think we should anyway. I'll start, okay?” 

Elia and Luchino nod slowly. 

“Okay. Well,” Gio stands up from where he's leaning against Nico's desk and steps forward towards the bed. He meets Marti's gaze, then he looks at Nico. He clears his throat. “Sorry, guys, for being a dick and not thinking about the consequences of what I did. I thought I was doing it for you, when actually I was being selfish and made everything worse. But now I'll do all I can to fix it. And I know you don't like to hear this, but I _will_ keep you safe, both of you. Only, I'll do it as your friend, okay? None of that bodyguard shit,” He lets out a shaky breath. “And I'll be there for you in the future, and I will listen, I promise. Nico, Marti...” Gio angrily wipes away a tear with his wrist. “I won't let you down again. Marti, _I swear-_ ” 

Marti doesn't remember the last time he saw Gio cry. It must have been a lifetime ago. 

He crawls clumsily towards the edge of the bed to reach him, but Gio gets there first and they hug the best they can in the awkward position they find themselves in, Marti's arms around Gio's stomach, and Gio's around his shoulders. 

“I love you. I'm sorry,” Gio whispers in his ear, and Marti holds him tighter and pretends he's not tearing up all over his shirt. 

“Er, if Gio is okay with letting you go at some point today, we'd like to apologise too,” Elia cuts in ironically from somewhere behind him. 

Marti laughs, but they aren't letting go anytime soon, he knows. 

“Just come over here,” Marti says, his voice muffled by the fabric of Gio's shirt. He frees one hand to feel the bed behind him. “Nico?” A hand on his, as soon as he calls for him. A caress that's barely even there. Marti entwines their fingers and smiles. “You too.” 

It's a mess. The most uncomfortable group hug ever, right on the edge of Nico's bed. 

Limbs and hair everywhere, and Marti hears “sorry” at least a million times and soon loses track of where it's coming from, or whether it's directed at him, Nico, or both of them – but it doesn't really matter. It's perfect the way it is. 

Then, out of nowhere, a kiss. It's gentle and chaste at the nape of his neck, but Marti is feeling so much right now that he shivers anyway. 

He disentangles slowly from the human monster they have created and he turns around to see Nico look at him, his green eyes almost golden in the late afternoon glow. 

“You alright?” Nico says quietly, and Marti knows he's thinking of school tomorrow. Of what might be. Of the consequences. 

Marti meets Gio's gaze and sees him nod once, seriously. It fixes nothing, of course, and it doesn't make it any less scary. But they're not facing this alone, at least. 

_They're not alone_ , how ironic. Marti turns back to Nico. 

“Yes, thank you,” he says slowly, deliberately. “Thank you for being so brave.” 

Nico just stares, stunned and surprised, and says nothing. 

“You won't have to be brave forever,” Gio is looking at Nico with determination. “I promise you that. We promise. We're really, _really_ sorry for what we did – and we'll try our best to make it better for you guys. Soon.” 

Nico looks up at him. A few seconds pass before his face opens in a careful smile. 

“This might a bit beyond what you _can_ do,” he says quietly. “But I believe you. I know you'll try anyway.” 

Marti takes Nico's hand and kisses his knuckles. Then he looks up at the boys, at Gio's resolve, at the peculiar intensity in Elia's eyes, at Luca's careful nod. 

Marti smiles. He believes them too. 

*

**Niccolò, Monday, h. 9.05**

_“all quiet on the western front”_

_don't. the guy gets killed when they telegram that_

_well, this wait is killing *me* so_

_it's gonna be okay_

<3

* 

**Contrabbandieri di Luchini, Monday, h. 10.18**

_Luca: nico?_

_Martino: covitti is ignoring him. he texted me after first period_

_Luca: well that's... good?_

_Martino: maybe_

_Luca: so after school then?_

_Elia: after school_

_Giovanni: guys please. calm and collected, yeah? we're being smart this time around_

_Giovanni: right, eli?_

_Elia: why are you texting me this?! i'm sitting right here_

_Giovanni: for future reference if this goes, like, really wrong_

_Elia: it won't_

_Elia: i mean, it might, but it won't be my fault_

_Martino: guys please_

_Martino: be careful_

*

“Ouch! _Ouch!_ Nico, man. I still want a face when you're done with this!”

“Well, you have to let me clean the cut, or you'll get tetanus and then it won't matter what your face looks like 'cause you're gonna be dead.” Nico rolls his eyes but he does pat Elia's jaw a bit more carefully. “Try to stay still, I'm almost finished.”

“Jesus,” Elia sucks in a breath and tries not to move. “That's so cheerful.”

“Fits the mood,” Luchino chimes in in a dramatic tone. He's sprawled on Nico's bed, a bag of ice covering his entire face.

“You guys are so stupid,” Marti says with a sigh. “Why didn't you just run away when it turned ugly?”

“Honestly, it was ugly from the beginning.” Gio looks up at Marti from where he is sitting on the floor, his back against the bed, so Marti can inspect the damage. He's holding an icebag in his hands. “But we had to try.”

Marti sighs again and he turns Gio's face to one side as gently as can.

It doesn't look great. His lips are swollen, and the left side of his face looks so red Marti is sure he'll have a dark bruise in no time.

“Just keep the ice on,” Marti says, and pushes the icebag Gio is distractedly playing with towards his face. “But there's no way you're hiding this. What will your mum say?”

“That I'm an idiot. My dad too,” Gio shrugs. “But my brother's gonna be real proud of me, so there's that.”

Luchino starts laughing but he stops almost immediately with a painful groan.

“Even laughing hurts,” he complains in a pitiful voice. “I'm going to die.”

“You're not going to die,” Nico reassures him, as he moves over to the bed to check on Luca. “But it's going to hurt a bit. And you're not gonna look your best for a few days.”

Luchino sighs.

“At least the girls will think I'm cool for once.”

“That, or that your face looks like an aubergine.” Elia rolls his eyes. “One of the two.”

“You don't look much better than me, you know,” Luca replies, moving the icebag to the side to scowl at Elia. “It's just that you can't see yourself right now.”

“That's 'cause Nico played doctor Frankenstein with my face.”

“You're such an ungrateful dick, Santini,” Nico replies, going for the same mocking tone, but he ruins the effect by sounding affectionate. “I think that Covitti's idiot friends playing punching-ball with your face might have a bit more to do with it. But, hey, that's just my opinion.”

“What did you even tell him?” Marti sits on the floor next to Gio and tilts his head backwards against the side of Nico's bed. He's feeling exhausted. “Did you manage to actually speak or...?”

“We tried,” Elia says with a sigh. “We went there all 'you are using these words to talk about our friends and they suck and we think you should stop. However, we're not gonna punch you this time.'”

“ _That's_ what you said?!”

“Well, that was the spirit, anyway. Not that it worked.”

“Yeah, it was a mess,” Gio adds defeatedly. “He started shouting that he's free to talk like he damn well pleases and if he wants to call people, you know...”

“Fucking faggots,” Nico offers with an eyeroll.

“Yeah, that, then he will say it.” Gio shakes his head. “And how dare we show our ugly faces again after what we did, etc, etc. He said a number of things after that too, but, honestly, it's a bit of a blur.”

“You were being punched in the face,” Marti reminds him, and the sarcasm sounds weak to his own ears. “I think that might be why.”

“Yeah, yeah. I think you might be right.”

Marti lets his head fall forward and stares dejectedly at the spotless floor in Nico's room.

“God, it's all my fault,” he says, and, as if on cue, the boys start talking all over each other.

“What?! No!”

“Marti, don't be an idiot!”

“Fucking shut up, man.”

All reactions he was expecting. And yet, he's the one who told them not to punch back, isn't he?

“Nono, listen. If I hadn't lost it on Friday, you wouldn't have gone to talk to Covitti today, and he and his friends wouldn't have-” Marti gesticulates at the poor state of Gio's face next to him. “Come on, have you seen yourselves? How am I supposed to be okay with you looking like that when this has nothing to do with you at all? He didn't say those things about you!”

“Marti, no offence, but if you think Covitti and his gang wouldn't have come looking for us if we hadn't shown up first, then you're an idiot.” Luca sits up properly on the bed to stare incredulously at him, the icebag momentarily forgotten. “And _we_ were the ones who punched him, not _you_. So this is totally about us, man.”

“Also, I may not be your bodyguard, fine, but you're not my mother.” Elia rolls his eyes at him. “I'll have to listen to _her_ preaching tonight already, so please, don't start early. I don't think I can take it.”

Gio just smiles gently at Marti.

“What they said.”

And fine, he guesses they do have a point this time around. He raises both hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Pretend I said nothing,” is all he says, but the truth is, this is all but fine.

_Why does everything have to be so complicated all the time?_

_Why can't we just_ be _for once?_

“What worries me,” Nico starts, a bit hesitant, and they all look up at him. He starts pacing nervously. “What worries me is, when is this over? Like, Covitti says stupid shit, you punch him, then you learn your lesson and try to fix it, but he doesn't care and he punches _you_. What next?”

“We're not punching him again, if that's what you're worried about,” Elia cuts in, and he doesn't sound too happy about it. “Though I will pray fucking Zeus or whoever for karma to get him. Fast. It's only fair.”

“That's not all of it, though, is it?” Nico says with a tired smile. Marti meets his eyes and smiles sadly back at him. He gets it. Marti was sure he would. “What stupid shit is he gonna say next? Are you gonna confront him about it, knowing how it's likely to end up? Am I? Is he gonna punch you, me, Marti, professor Costanzo, who? When does it end?”

No one answers.

Marti thinks there _is_ no answer, and just like that they're back to silence once again.

It's weird. Marti is reminded of yesterday, of last Friday, of the way this whole thing started, of the promises the boys made and are still trying to honour, but it's so hard when life gets in the way.

_How do you make it all better when the other side refuses to listen?_

_Should you even try? Why is this even up to you?_

“You could maybe write to Emma?” Luca suggests tentatively, looking at Marti. “You guys are talking again, right? She's his sister, maybe she can talk to him. And she's not as bad as he is.”

Nico raises both eyebrows.

“I mean, she _did_ out us to the entire school.”

“Yes, what I mean is, she doesn't say the horrible things _he_ says.” Luca appears to consider what he said for a moment and sighs dejectedly. “God, the bar is kind of low, when you think about it.”

“Yeah, I think that's the real point here, isn't it?” Nico smiles ruefully. “But you're right, that's something we _can_ try and do. Write to her, I mean?” He looks at Marti for confirmation. “If she can get past, you know-”

“The fact that we punched her brother?” Gio looks dubious.

“I mean, not to be that person once again, but he did very much start this,” Elia points out, and Marti shakes his head and tries not to smile.

“I mean, it _could_ work,” Marti begins, somewhat hesitantly. “Or not. But it's not like we've got alternatives here, so.” He takes a deep breath. “What do I write?”

“'Please buy a leash and keep your brother on it. Love, Marti?'” Elia suggests with a grin.

Marti rolls his eyes fondly at Nico and Elia high-fiving over the joke.

“I say we keep it light-ish,” Gio says and he cuts off Elia before he can interrupt. “Look, I know he's the worst. I _know_ , okay? But she doesn't, she's his sister. And we have to work with what we have. So, maybe, you know. We were wrong to punch him – we're not gonna say he deserved it, that's, like, subtext – but he was wrong to say those things and can she please talk to him. Doesn't she agree that it's time for people to be free to live their lives how they please without constantly having to- What?” Gio stops and looks at Marti, suddenly confused. “What's that face? What did I say?”

Marti smiles at him, eyes shining.

He looks up at Nico, who smiles back brighly, even though he wasn't there that time, so he cannot know. But he can probably guess. Elia is looking at him curiously, and Luchino just snaps his fingers loudly next to Marti's ear when he doesn't reply.

“So?” Luca prods. “What's happening?”

“Nothing. Just that I know what to write,” Marti replies, quietly proud, and he unlocks his phone.

*

**Emma, Monday, h. 15.02**

_it's 2019 now and i'm just trying to live my life in peace. just that_

*

**Emma, Monday, h. 17.57**

_i'll talk to him tonight_

_i'm sorry_


End file.
